BUBBLE MEMORY
in the bubble of a moment
I learnt all rights are unsung
as the crust of empire tots up
Oh yodelling telly totty
in the penetrations of space time
everybody tries the rigid poser
stop the darkling leaking and looping
all through a Saturday night
who cares about a small rodent rage
when birds flop out of a white sky
for the wispy devils of my old collusions
with the general electrification of the unwashed
and elders operate in the plural
fingering the greased love-button of starvation systems
how can you burn up and down our targets
and paddle towards amniotic bliss
or is this a covert God-Death
because we can’t face the maths
I or whoever organise my days around a bright factoid
around and around
rampant in the scriptorium of gel
I keep piling it on
Monday, January 28, 2008
BUBBLE MEMORY
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
2008
You try to factorise the time-flow, stabilise your co-ordinates; everything blurs. Being is filtered, diluted. The qualia thicken. So easy to become what you behold. You plagiarise more of your old selves. Belief systems sway around your ears like cheap scaffolding. Whoever you were needs to be reinforced by anecdotal evidence. The flop and flap of physical appendages is ludicrous, not ludic.You're a text full of intertextuality, but you're the only one to get it. It's the beginning of the end-game. The year is not new. It's old.
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